


Understanding

by aequuitas



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aequuitas/pseuds/aequuitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy and Sherlock don't always understand each other, but sometimes they don't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

There were some things about Sherlock that Amy could never understand. The way he would sit and stare into space for hours, or how he never seemed to realize that she did, in fact, leave the flat sometimes. The way he would barely eat, and then when he finally did it was like starving man; his strange habits, with his nicotine patches and the body parts in the fridge.

There were also things about Sherlock that Amy felt she couldn't live without. The way he would flash her the barest of smiles when she made a joke. The way that he cared about her, even when he pretended he couldn't feel a thing. The way that he would leave his coat draped over the chair in his bedroom, so that she could wrap herself up in it in the cold mornings, like a child playing dress up. The way he smelled, the way he felt, the curl of his fingers and the softness of his hair.

She would never tell him those things though, because she was Amy, and he was Sherlock, and that wasn't how it worked. And her staying at 221B was only supposed to be temporary, but she'd been there for months now, and wasn't planning on going anywhere. John had moved out to live with his new wife, but he visited sometimes. For all intents and purposes, Sherlock was still heartless, and Amy was just a colleague. But when no one else was around, it was like a part of his mask dropped. He was careful, and reserved, still, but he was also gentle and perfect. He was everything she needed, and everything she wanted.

He didn't understand why she cried when they watched Titanic. He didn't understand the emotional attachment to the fictional characters playing out their imaginary deaths on screen, and yet still his arm tightened around her as he pulled her closer. He didn't understand why she found the stars so fascinating, but for her birthday he'd bought her an encyclopedia of the constellations. He didn't care for her stories about traveling with the Doctor, but he would sit and listen to her for hours, actually listen, because he knew they were important to her.

And she didn't understand why he had to go. Why he had to jump and leave her. She just knew that he was there, and then he wasn't. There was no way she could stop him from going, and nothing she could say that would make it right.

And then the flat was empty. There were no more sad films, there were no more stars. There was no staring into the distance for hours. Body parts slowly disappeared from the fridge, and Amy found it strange when she missed their presence. She wouldn't let them move his things though. They were his, and they belonged in 221B. Just like she did.


End file.
